


Pink

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, First Time, Kinky, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-21
Updated: 2008-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John touches something he shouldn't have touched, and Rodney has to pay for it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink

  
The Emekians had a sapling flower root, which they cultivated for its hallucinogenic properties. This particular flower blossomed once every ten rotations of their sun, and Emekian society being what it was, they took that very seriously. They used the flower to *see* sacred oracles handed down by the Ancestors; their priests had routines set in stone about who among them could touch its petals and who could not. And as John discovered, the Emekians also had some weird ass rituals to deal with anyone caught touching without permission.

"This is _so_ unfair!" McKay kept telling their guards. "I didn't even _do_ anything. Why does it have to be _me_?"

The guards just kept dragging McKay toward those gallows. Despite some very impressive struggling on McKay's part, McKay soon had a noose around each hand, and he was standing there in front of the assembled crowd trussed up like some ceremonial chicken. A very pissed off chicken, who was pretty much naked from the waist down in every way that mattered.

John didn't know where to look. When they'd brought McKay out in those pink leather chaps, he'd thought things couldn't get much worse. Now with the ass painting and the feathers they were trying to stick in McKay's hair, he had a feeling that if they made it out of this alive, McKay was going to kill him.

"Maybe we can work something here," he begged the priestess standing beside him. Because in his experience, the crazies always wanted something, even if it usually started with C and ended with 4. "Seriously, I didn't mean to touch your sacred flower. The thing practically jumped me!"

"Nonetheless, contact was made." The old woman gave her answer in the same implacable tone she'd used to set the guards on him. The one, which told him that trying to negotiate with *this* kind of crazy was a waste of time.

Of course it didn't help that she was leering at him now, or that Teyla had stopped trying to restrain Ronon and had started laughing her ass off as well.

He really hated the muu-muu thing they'd put him in; no one _ever_ took him seriously in pink.

"Colonel Sheppard," the priestess continued in that _no nonsense_ tone of voice. "We have tried to accommodate your sensibilities; in turn, you must accommodate ours." She sidled up close, leer firmly in place. "Since you were with Dr. McKay at the time of the transgression, he must lose life in the penitent way for all to bear witness."

As soon as she said that, his left eyelid did the crazy twitching thing it always did whenever someone threatened McKay. Deep down, he knew the ritual wasn't as bad as she'd made it sound; he'd had the whole thing explained to him by Teyla, their attendants and the young lady, who'd painted that fluorescent pink syrupy stuff onto McKay's ass. Just, _God_ , he didn't like where this was going; he didn't like it at all!

From the crazed look in McKay's eyes, McKay didn't like it either and was about to let everyone know at the top of his lungs.

"Ma'am, please! Couldn't you make an exception? Just this one time? For me?" He threw in what he hoped was a charming smile, because he was desperate enough to try anything. And he wasn't above flirting with an old lady if that was what it took to get them out of this mess.

Seconds later, the same guards, who'd manhandled McKay over to the gallows, were forcibly escorting him there as well.

"Hey! _Hey_ , wait a minute!" He tried struggling before he dug his heels in, trying to slow them down. When none of that worked, he switched tactics altogether and tried whining instead. "Ah, come on, guys! Can't we at least talk about this?"

But the guards wouldn't listen to him either. They dragged him behind McKay, shoved him down on his knees, and--

 _Whoa_!

Okay, so McKay was seriously packing, front _and_ back.

After everything he'd seen in the past few years, he had no idea why _that_ surprised him. Still he knew he wasn't supposed to notice things like that; he'd spent a lot of time deliberately _not_ noticing things like that. Only it was kind of hard to ignore with Rodney's naked ass glowing right there in front of his face.

Now that it came down to it, he realized he been over-thinking the situation. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. In fact, he found it surprisingly easy to trail two fingers through the syrup on Rodney's skin and then lift them up to his mouth. And, yeah, _definitely do-able_ he decided after getting a good taste.

He figured out pretty quickly, though, that the stuff was slippery. Making it kind of impossible to, well, _hold on_ to anything. Which was the only reason why he spent the next few minutes cleaning it off. With his tongue. Just to make sure he got all of it.

"Huh, that's much better," he said once Rodney's ass was back to what he assumed was its normal shade of pink. He thought Rodney would at least be relieved about _that_ after all his complaining about having to have that 'probably toxic yak juice' painted onto him.

Only, Rodney sounded like he was huffing again before Rodney got _very_ quiet all of a sudden. Which, on a normal day, was strange enough, but in this kind of situation was totally weird!

"Rodney?" John whispered. "Hey, you still with me, buddy?"

"What? Of course I am!" Rodney snapped at him. "What kind of question is that? I'm still tied up here, aren't I?"

 _Now_ Rodney sounded distracted and incredibly short of breath. John tried not to think about what that meant since he was starting to feel a little breathless himself.

He spread Rodney open and *stared* because, _fuck_ , there was even more of that syrupy stuff there as well, glistening pink and wet around Rodney's hole. He wasn't at all prepared for the way his mouth watered at the sight of it, or the way his cock sat up and took notice, sending a barrage of: 'Oh yeah, John, go for it,' signals to the hind part of his brain.

Rodney, of course, didn't help by _winking_ at him. Repeatedly. Making him flush from head to toe. Making him forget that this was a _very_ bad ritual and that he was supposed to be thinking of ways to get out of it, not the best way to dive right in.

Until Rodney snarled: "Have you finished yet? You know, wool gathering or whatever it is you're doing back there? Because, I think we're on a clock here!"

"Jesus, McKay, would you give me a break!" And he knew it was mean to smack Rodney on the ass like that. But God damn Rodney for not considering that he might need a fucking moment or two to compose himself.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting exactly. Perhaps some thought for what *he* was going through? Or maybe a little reassurance or *something* because this was pretty big deal for him. He was about to eat someone's ass out for the first time. And not just anyone: this was McKay's ass on the menu here. So God forbid he should screw _that_ up!

"Okay, listen," he said over Rodney's screams of outrage. "I'm under enough pressure as it is already. So do not rush me!" He was determined not to let anyone push him into starting until he was good and ready.

Unfortunately, the crowd got tired of waiting. People started heckling them; a few even threw things. He thought one of the guards _did_ push him then, but everything happened so fast, and he was too distracted to be sure of anything, what with the sudden squelch of syrup smearing him down from nose to chin.

He reared back at once, heart pounding so loud he couldn't hear anything else. And _fuck_ , he could *taste* Rodney on his mouth _right there_ in that subtle edge weaving its way through the sweetness. He licked another streak off his upper lip, feeling a little hot and shivery. Because there it was _again_ : that *taste*. Everything he'd expected Rodney to be and like nothing he'd ever imagined.

This time, _he_ leant forward seeking it out, licking at Rodney again and again, until all that sweetness was gone and he was down to Rodney and nothing else. And it still wasn't enough for him, even though Rodney kept pushing back to give him more. But, God, he had no _idea_ Rodney would taste this good, or that doing this for Rodney would get him so hot _he'd_ be the one losing control.

He clasped both hands around Rodney's hips, holding Rodney steady. Then he pressed his tongue into Rodney as deep as it could go, making Rodney gasp and then just sort of _sag_ above him. He could _feel_ the shudder roll through Rodney after that, and he knew it was the good kind. The kind that meant Rodney's toes were curling with pleasure. The kind that had him working to make Rodney scream with it.

He went in a little harder, loving the way Rodney just shivered and shivered. And in the back of his mind, he had a feeling he wasn't supposed to be getting off on this. Not with all these people watching and listening, staring at him while--

John reared back abruptly.

"Wha--? Whassamatter?" Rodney slurred the whole question together. "Oh, I don't believe this! *Now* you're stopping?" The ropes twisted; Rodney glanced down at him over his shoulder with that crazed look in his eyes again. "Are you insane? What's the matter with you? Why are you stopping now?"

John shrugged, a little flustered, not entirely sure how to answer that. * _Apparently I like eating your ass so much my dick is hard,_ * didn't sound right. Nor did: * _Hey, guess what: I'm not gay!_ * Because right then he was having some incredibly gay thoughts about Rodney's ass.

Rodney flinched all of a sudden, and John prayed really hard that he hadn't said any of that out loud. He thought he was okay there after Rodney then launched into a series of threats that were absolutely not intimidating in that breathless tone of voice.

"If you leave me hanging here, I will kill you! Do you hear me, Colonel? *Kill* you! TO DEATH!"

"Yeah, McKay, whatever!" And John just rolled his eyes and went for it, eating Rodney out with the kind of relentless determination that had Rodney squirming like crazy.

He moved his head with each writhing turn, never letting Rodney get away from him. Until eventually he splayed a hand low on Rodney's stomach to hold Rodney there for him. He didn't care any more who was watching, not with the way Rodney kept trembling and whining for him constantly. Because, _fuck_ , he had to have this now. He needed it so badly his cock was twitching and dripping and _screaming at him_ to get right in there and jerk Rodney off around him. And nothing, not even the thought of getting off in front of so many strangers, could convince him it was a bad idea after Rodney arched back and ground up against him, like Rodney wanted the exact same thing.

He rose up high on both knees, yanked Rodney back and then pressed in deep with his tongue again and again, giving and taking as much as he could, feeling those uncontrolled shivers spread right the way through Rodney's body. Until Rodney just _froze_ above him all of a sudden, gasping: "John, please, _please_ ," before arching and _shrieking_ and spraying come all over the place.

Even then John couldn't bring himself to stop. So he kept tonguing Rodney through those full body shudders, trembling himself, so turned on now he could barely keep it together. In the end, Rodney's knees gave way and Rodney just hung there from his wrists, sobbing, "Too much-- Oh, _God_ \-- " sounding absolutely wrecked.

Which made him lose it completely.

He struggled to his feet. Then he had Rodney up and on him in seconds, grabbing Rodney by the waist and planting Rodney's ass firmly in his lap. He knew he was less than gentle now, but _God_ he couldn't wait any more. He needed to come so badly, and he was going for it, grinding up against Rodney's ass, working his hips and rubbing himself off through layers of cotton and leather.

" _Jesus_ ," Rodney whispered, sounding a little shocked. Then Rodney clenched up hard, giving him just the kind of friction he needed.

And he was there, curling over with pleasure and gasping into Rodney's neck while the slick, slow spurts from his cock soaked through the cloth bunched up at his waist.

***

He took a while to recover. Even longer to un-stick himself from Rodney, who kept making those intensely annoyed sounds about being stuck to him in the first place.

John felt incredibly grateful for that because no one else was saying anything. Aside from Rodney's huffing, the place was so silent he would have heard a pin drop! People were just watching him, all of them wide-eyed and a little slack-jawed.

John knew his face was red by the time he cut Rodney down. He swept up his muu-muu to hide the mother of all wet spots. Then he marched Rodney over to where the priestess was waiting for them. "Ma'am, by completing the rites of penitence, I ask that you release us from our bonds to walk freely among your people."

He was sure he'd recited the words exactly as he'd been taught. Still, nothing but silence. The priestess just stood there staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

Frankly, John couldn't blame her. Rodney had to have shot at least five feet there; and he wasn't sure, but glancing over at the crowd, he thought Rodney had actually _hit_ a few people.

Served them right for heckling him!

"Ma'am!" He raised his voice a little, trying to snap her out of it. "Are we free to go?"

The priestess nodded. At which point she presented him with a pink ribbony thing that kind of looked like a rosette.

Rodney took one look at it and went ballistic. "My God, they're handing out *prizes* now?"

John thought: * _Holy shit!_ * Because he had a feeling Rodney was right about that.

"This is so typical!" Rodney poked him viciously on the shoulder. "I can't believe you get a prize for that! Why do _you_ get a prize?"

"Maybe because I earned it!" John held up his ribbon, feeling ridiculously proud of himself. Even though he could feel Rodney eyeing him resentfully, like Rodney was plotting ways to get even with him. "Look, let's get out of here, okay? You can yell at me all you want later."

He sauntered off toward Teyla and Ronon, taking his ass prize with him, and he didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Rodney's ass wasn't far behind.

  
The End.  



End file.
